Learning to Trust
by artemis-nz
Summary: A lot can happen in the space of a month. Conrad/Yuuri.
1. Chapter 1

Yuuri was not by nature a distrustful person. Nor was he cynical. Much had changed since his first arrival in Shin Makoku – some years ago now – it was true. He was more likely to stand up and speak his mind (especially where his personal moral ideals were being challenged), even when he knew it was neither easy nor practical to do so. He was slightly more serious than he had once been; more given to at least some thought before acting recklessly or impulsively. His temper when under the influence of his other self had remarkably improved.

Still, there were some things that had remained constant. His determination to see things through. His utmost loyalty to those he cared about. His compassion towards others, even when he did not know personally them. His open-hearted smile. The fact that he still blushed furiously (at first), whenever he and Conrad were… whenever Conrad did… and he…

Here, Yuuri decided, was the crux of the problem. It had been a month. Not long in the grand scheme of things, he knew. Not long even by human reckoning, let alone by demon standard time. But it had been a _memorable_ month, and for all Yuuri's own naivety and inexperience with these sorts of things, he was pretty sure that it had been memorable for Conrad too. Conrad could be deceptive when he needed to be, and if he thought it was in Yuuri's best interests. Sneaky, even. (It must have been difficult to meticulously plan out a surprise birthday party involving the whole castle and what must have been half the town, for instance, and have it still be a surprise. Yet this Conrad had done, not a year earlier.) But whatever else Conrad was, Yuuri knew that he was not deceitful, or dishonest, or cruel. Conrad – _his_ Conrad, just as he was now _Conrad_'s Yuuri – was kind, patient, sincere… all the things that Yuuri had seen in him from the start. All of the things that Yuuri loved.

Yet for all this, and maybe even because of it, Yuuri was troubled. He had not been conscious of it at first – too caught up in the feelings of excitement and exhalation to catch the uneasiness that had been building slowly up until it finally caught him by surprise. Had it really taken him this long to realise it?

It had been a month, and although Conrad and Yuuri had slept together (repeatedly and breathtakingly), they had not once fallen asleep together.

* * *

"The thing is… the thing is, I could just be imagining things."

His one-man audience – or rather, one-cat audience – was disapprovingly silent.

"Okay, fine, so I'm not imagining it. It's just, you know, I can be prone to occasional flights of fancy. Or so people tell me."

The cat's expression remained the same, but Yuuri imagined it raising a querying eyebrow.

"Alright, so I'm not imagining it. You tell _me_ if you're so smart."

The cat-in-his-mind smirked.

"Well of course I could talk to Conrad about it. But that's… I mean after so long… yes, I know it's only been a month, but even that's a little long to have not said anything by now, right? Anyone else in this situation would have talked to him about it right off the bat, but I didn't, and now it's way too embarrassing to bring up."

The cat rolled its eyes.

"No need to be rude. I'm just saying, it's potentially really awkward. Have I not already been in enough awkward situations as it is? When that maid saw me and Conrad on the desk the other day-"

"…"

"… Well yeah, I know it was exactly what it looked like, but she didn't have to know that did she? I just said the first thing that came to mind. Anyway, you're not helping the situation any."

"…"

"I suppose it could be some other custom I don't know about", Yuuri admitted. "Like maybe we're not supposed to actually _sleep_ together until we're married or something."

The cat gave a sneeze that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

"Alright, fine. What if Conrad… what if he… if there was someone else that… no! That's just not true and you know it."

The cat didn't do anything this time, and Yuuri gave it up. He supposed it was laughable, talking to a knitted cat in his room, but it had seemed a good idea at the time. Saying things out loud helped clear his head and organise things properly in his mind so that he could think about them more rationally. And for all his vivid imagination, a toy cat would not judge him, or make him feel ashamed.

Still, Yuuri had to confess that the cat had a point. He should definitely talk to _someone_ about this, even if that someone was not Conrad. Right now, he needed a person who had a firm grip of the customs of this world. A person who would not laugh at him, but who would be brutally honest if they needed to be. Above all, a person who Yuuri could trust to remain discreet.

Ah. Of course. The fact that he had begun talking to that cat in the first place…

Yuuri hurried off before he could change his mind by talking himself out of it. For something like this, he needed Gwendal.

By the time he had wound his way through the castle to Gwendal's office door (he had taken the scenic route), Yuuri's purposeful stride had slowed to a walk, and then to a dawdle. What reaction would Yuuri be met with? What might Gwendal say to Yuuri's misgivings? Was this really something that wouldn't sort itself out on its own? Yuuri quickly shook his head free of this last thought; if whatever was going on between he and Conrad hadn't sorted itself out by now, Yuuri knew it likely never would, and in any case, Yuuri also understood that if he did not talk to Gwendal about this right now, his courage would be forever lost.

He took a deep breath, in and out. Squared his shoulders. Ignored the almost painfully rhythmic thumping of his heart and raised his hand to knock on the door.

And stopped, his knuckles a hairsbreadth away from making contact with the wood, hearing hushed voices from the other side.

Gwendal was in some kind of meeting. Yuuri turned, disappointed even in his relief but not wanting to interrupt what was obviously a private conversation. He was in the act of walking away when he happened to catch what he could have sworn was Conrad's voice.

"-can't be helped", he heard, and turned quickly back around. It _was_ Conrad. Still, that was no good reason to be eavesdropping…

"-not as if I can't tell." Gwendal this time, sounding gruff, almost angry.

"I'm not disputing your powers of observation. I _am_ saying that it's not anyone's business but my own." Conrad again, and he sounded… defensive, almost. Not a tone of voice from Conrad that Yuuri was familiar with. He hesitated on the threshold, torn between walking away before he could hear any more and listening in, if only to discern what exactly was going on. But it was nothing to do with him, it was not proper or right of him to stick his nose where it didn't belong-

"It's _Yuuri_'s business", Gwendal said, and Yuuri knew then that he wasn't going anywhere. He took another step forward. "Every man is entitled to his secrets, but you'll forgive me for suggesting that in something like this, your business is also your partner's business. It affects the both of you."

"I will tell him. Just… not right now. I can't."

Gwendal snorted. "And just when were you planning to? You're still relatively young, Conrart, and in some ways you are still the boy you once were- no, let me finish. This is not your first relationship, nor yet your second. But it's the most important of your life so far, and Shinou willing, it will continue to be. Don't give it all away over something as absurd as lack of communication."

There was a creak as one of them shifted in their chair, and then a short silence.

"I know", Conrad admitted, and this time his voice was softer, so that Yuuri had to press his ear to the door to properly hear it. "But it's not as simple as that."

"It is", Gwendal insisted. "It's as simple as admitting the truth to Yuuri, or alternatively giving out altogether, and perhaps losing what you have with Yuuri in the process. Just look at yourself."

A short, bitter laugh. "Is it really that bad?"

"To those that know you, yes. I recommend you do something about it."

"I'm not about to-"

"You'll do whatever is right, because anything less would hurt Yuuri, and because you would then no longer be the man I once thought you were."

Another taut silence. Then, even more quietly, "… That was unnecessary."

"If it has brought you back to your senses, it was entirely necessary. Just a moment."

Another creaking of chairs, heavy footsteps. Drawers opening and closing. Footsteps again.

"Here."

"…"

"Just take them."

"What about you?"

"They're extras. I've already some of my own."

"Gwendal… this isn't-"

"Don't be a fool", Gwendal snapped, and Conrad sighed, defeated.

"Thank you."

"Thank me by acting responsibly this time. It's not me who has to suffer when you don't. Your stubbornness will get you into trouble one day."

"Too late, I think", said Conrad, and his voice still held a trace of bitterness.

"Yes, well…" Gwendal's voice was quieter too now, and not unkind. "Perhaps you'll feel differently in a day or so."

"We'll see."

More movement, this time louder and closer. Yuuri whipped his ear away from the door and turned on his heel before the door could be opened. This was one conversation he was certain had not meant to be overheard. Around the corner and out of sight, his rushed tip-toeing turned to scurrying. He did not look back, lest Conrad somehow pick up on his presence and realise what Yuuri had just witnessed.

* * *

It had taken the rest of the day to regain his composure. Long enough, in fact, for Yuuri to skip lunch, attend dinner solely for appearances sake, and then seek the relative solitude of the stables.

They were enormous. In fact, Blood Pledge Castle had several stables, ranging from those which housed battle horses to those that bred farm ponies. Yuuri had instinctively headed for the one which he assumed would be the quietest at this time of the day. The shadows had already lengthened, and lights were beginning to appear upon the castle walls in the near distance by the time Yuuri found himself a comfortable but dim spot at the back of the building. The horses pointedly ignored him, and the one other human occupant was a groomsman who either did not notice Yuuri or pretended not to. Whichever it was, Yuuri was profoundly grateful.

He hoped he would not be missed. At heart, Yuuri was someone who was loathe to cause trouble to anyone, least of all the people he cared about. Yet he knew he was not quite ready to face those people again just yet. Dinner had been a trial, with Yuuri attempting to mask his misgivings behind the constant clatter of bowls and plates, and then affecting to be deeply interested by all that had occurred during Celi's latest quest for free love. He had avoided eye contact with Conrad altogether. For his part, the soldier himself had been nearly silent, making a quiet comment every now and then but remaining otherwise unobtrusive.

And now to this. The weather, warm but cloudy since morning, gradually turned darker until the first few spatters of rain finally hit the ground. Yuuri, dry and feeling almost secure in his small space, did not attempt to beat the rain on his way back to the castle even after the groom had left. Instead he stayed where he was, watching the steady drip-drip from the eaves and following with his eyes the water trailing from there to the earth. It was not in him to feel sorry for himself, because that would have meant discounting his own foolishness in the matter. If he had gone to Conrad sooner, if he had gone to Gwendal sooner, if he had picked up on what was happening before it was too late, if he had-

But it made little sense to dwell on what could have been, Yuuri knew. Speculating on that would only bring more misery, and right now he was here to think of what might yet be done, not what was in the past.

So. He had options. Talk to Gwendal himself, find out if there had been some kind of terrible misunderstanding. (It would not have been the first time.) Or if he had not misunderstood, he would at least be able to figure out what was truly going on, and how he might go about changing it. Gwendal could be blunt and even harsh sometimes, but he was nothing if not fair. And…

But no. He was going about this the wrong way. The whole trouble had started not because he hadn't gone to Gwendal quickly enough, but because he hadn't confronted Conrad himself about it. Yuuri knew, had always known, that Conrad would not and could not lie to him when asked a direct question. If Conrad had not been able to say something, it was because he, like Yuuri himself, did not wish to place whatever burden he bore on someone else's shoulders. Moral cowardice had never been Conrad's way – indeed, Yuuri suddenly realised with a start – it was _he_ who was being the coward. Conrad did not know that Yuuri was upset, because he had hidden it from Conrad. And because only Yuuri knew both sides of the story – or at least, he knew a part of them – it was up to him to make the first move, not Conrad. By depending on Conrad, Yuuri knew that he himself was guilty of taking the easy way out.

And it was high time to remedy that.

Yuuri stood, brushing what hay he could from his clothes. This time, he would not falter. This time, he would own up to whatever mistakes he had made, allowing Conrad to do the same.

He walked briskly away from his shelter, his shoes squelching over sodden grass and his clothes growing damper by the moment. That did not matter though. What was a school uniform compared to what he cared about the most?

Again he strode the halls, but now making his unflinching away to Conrad's personal chambers. He thought of what he might say to Conrad on the way, but a thousand things crowded his mind at once. _I'm sorry_. _Please go_. _Please stay_. _Is it my fault?_ _What changed things?_ _Are we together? Are we apart?_ _I'm sorry_-

Conrad's closed door greeted him, and for the second time that day Yuuri took a deep breath to try and steady himself before raising his hand to knock.

And, for the second time that day, his hand hesitated at the sounds he heard.

His mind would not make sense of them at first. His ears recognised the noises for what they were, but they held greedily on to the information, not letting it through to his brain. A low, wordless moan. The creaky shifting of a wooden bed. The feverish rustling of sheets, accompanied by another strangled, pillow-smothered cry.

Oh. _Oh_. Yuuri stood and stared at the door stupidly until he finally distinguished Conrad's voice from the other, more guttural sounds, whispering something Yuuri could not and did not wish to hear.

He looked down at himself then, and saw himself as how he knew others must perceive him. Soggy clothes clinging to his body, emphasising his slight build. Plain black hair in need of a trim, with one or two bits of hay still stuck in it. Dark but colourless eyes, still filled with the idiocy of youth that had brought him to this. Had he truly believed…?

He was, he now realised fully, completely inadequate, and double the fool for not realising it sooner.

Another gasp from within the room jolted Yuuri out of his reverie. He fled, this time uncaring about who might be around to see him run away.

* * *

**Whew! That was a tough one to write. Expect the second and final chapter of this fic to be up in about a week.**


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri passed a restless night, dozing off only to wake properly with a start and re-remember everything all over again. Each time, he reasoned with himself that this was not his fault, and each time, his mind cruelly reminded him that he could not have hoped for anything more. After all, just what was he, an entirely average-looking Earthling brat, doing courting someone like Conrad? To make any kind of comparison between them was laughable, and Yuuri, exhausted and upset, felt that although he had done nothing wrong, he somehow deserved such a fate for the simple act of daring to love someone such as Conrad. Conrad was with someone better now, more deserving. Probably someone who was taller, stronger, more intelligent, better than Yuuri at-

Yuuri cut off that last thought with a shudder, but his mind would not rest. The fifth time this happened, Yuuri gave up the attempt at sleep and got up, though he knew it was still at least an hour away from daybreak. He roamed the hallways until dawn, with each passing minute feeling as though he were becoming as insubstantial as a ghost.

* * *

Gwendal was not the kind of man to panic in any given situation. In a castle where his best friend was intelligent but completely emotionally uncontrolled, where his two brothers were brashly aggressive and quietly stubborn respectively, where its very king was an idealistic but equally stubborn boy, Gwendal was the foundation that kept everything solid.

He knew his own weaknesses. He could be overly brisk at times, especially when he was trying not to be. He was intimidating to some even when he spoke not at all. He was a tense man who allowed himself to become stressed too easily. He was seen by many as a slave-driver; his work ethic demanded nothing but the best from everyone, himself included.

But Gwendal also knew that no matter how easy it was at times to criticise oneself, he did have his good points. Stability. Self-control. Loyalty, to his family and to those whom had earned his trust alike. Stoic in the face of danger or threat; while others sometimes let fear or alarm get the better of them, Gwendal was a man nigh-on unflappable. And it was not his policy to get involved in the affairs of others, especially where relationships were concerned – unless it directly impacted on him.

He silently weighed these things up now, allowing the thoughts to swirl about in his head and eventually settle before making a move (he did not like to make any decision, especially something like _this_, without first ensuring that reason was put over emotion). No, he did not think anyone would describe him as a people-person… but as one of the more experienced demons helping to run the kingdom, and as a man with an uncompromising amount of common sense, he did not believe he could remain apart from whatever was going on this time.

He cleared his throat.

While on certain days this alone would be enough to make Yuuri jump, shaken abruptly out of whatever daydream he was in and getting back to his endless stack of paperwork with a guilty glance in Gwendal's direction, today Yuuri did not appear to notice. The king was staring off into the distance at nothing in particular, his quill was unmoving in his hands.

If Gwendal were truthful, Yuuri did not look good. He was no physician, but even Gwendal could tell when something was not right. He pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation before exhaling slowly and taking the plunge.

"Are you ill, Heika?"

It took a moment for Yuuri to realise he had been spoken to. Blinking, he turned towards Gwendal. "Ah, sorry Gwendal, must have spaced out for a minute. What did you say?"

Gwendal repeated the question, eyeing Yuuri critically and not caring that Yuuri reddened tellingly under his gaze.

"Ahh, no? Nope, I'm fine. Definitely not getting sick, Gwendal, I promise."

"Hm."

Yuuri flushed again and looked quickly down at the piece of paper he was supposed to be reading, to all intents and purposes now completely absorbed in his work. To Gwendal, however, this only confirmed that something was amiss. Yuuri's paler-than-usual colouring, the shadows under his eyes, the lack of concentration, could all have conceivably been blamed upon a simple case of sleeplessness. Yuuri's actions, on the other hand, showed that if sleeplessness were indeed the culprit, the underlying cause for it was something more than a chance bad night. On any other occasion, Yuuri would have gladly given up his work to chat, especially if something relatively minor was bothering him. It was very rarely a difficult task to read Yuuri, and what Gwendal (or most others with whom the king spent his time) could not decipher through deduction alone, they found out easily enough through one or two well-phrased questions. Yuuri wore his heart on his sleeve. It was disconcerting to now discover that something was worrying Yuuri to such an extent that he did not trust anyone enough to talk about it.

Or perhaps, Gwendal mused, it was that Yuuri did not trust himself enough with it.

He was able to watch his charge again unguardedly for several more moments; this time Yuuri seemed to have become distracted in the midst of opening some correspondence. The letter opener was in his hand, Yuuri's fingers idly fiddling with it as he stared off into space again. Gwendal sighed, and wished he was more gifted with this sort of thing.

"Heika, I really do think-"

This time Yuuri did jump. "What? Oh, I'm really sorry Gwendal, sorry, I guess I'm just tired, but I'll try and be more…" He trailed off before he could babble any more, sawing at the letter in his hands determinedly, and Gwendal wondered just how anyone else could manage in this type of situation. Turning away from Yuuri, since his stare clearly made Yuuri uncomfortable, Gwendal gazed out the window as he tried to think of what to do next. Perhaps someone better equipped to deal with… but no, that was only a way of putting things off, and Gwendal knew that the sooner things were resolved, the better it would be for all concerned. He frowned, vaguely noting that it had not stopped raining since last night as he pondered. Perhaps he could not pass this problem onto someone else, but that did not mean he could not take inspiration from someone else. What would Conrad do in this situation…?

Hoping to gain some insight, he glanced back at Yuuri. Yes, something was obviously wrong there; Yuuri was by no means the most skilled or hard-working when it came to office duties, but it was strange for even him to lose concentration for the third time in almost as many minutes-

"Yuuri!"

"Huh?" Yuuri looked up at the sound of his name; unusual, coming from Gwendal, who almost always still preferred to follow protocol.

Gwendal gestured wordlessly, and for once his concern was etched plainly on his face.

"What-oh! I must've cut myself accidentally on the-"

"Idiot!" Gwendal wasted no more time in striding over to Yuuri's desk, where he lifted Yuuri's hand up and out of harm's way. Yuuri flinched slightly at Gwendal's grip, and Gwendal darted a look at Yuuri, irritation warring with dismayed disbelief. He didn't think that Yuuri had flinched out of pain – for all his harsh demeanour, Gwendal's touch had been as gentle as he could manage – and he had never known Yuuri to shy away from human contact. There was something very wrong indeed for things to have gone this far, yet only days, even hours ago, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. What could possibly have happened in the space of such a short time that might have impacted the king so dramatically?

Gwendal shook his head, frustrated and angry, although now not with Yuuri. "Stay there!" he barked, and Yuuri shrank down in his seat, watching as Gwendal swiftly excited the room.

He re-emerged moments later with a small roll of bandages, a cloth, and a bowl of water. By this time Yuuri had schooled his features to blank, and Gwendal said not another word as he cleansed Yuuri's hand with the water and cloth with a kind of forced calm. His methods were meticulous but efficient; once the excess blood had been cleaned away, Gwendal could see that the cut, while messy, was not especially deep. He staunched the wound by pressing the cloth firmly down for a few moments, waiting for the flow of blood to slow so that Yuuri's hand could be properly bandaged. Yuuri himself looked down, averting his eyes from both Gwendal's face and his own hand until Gwendal was done.

Breathing through his nose, Gwendal cleared away the rest of the water, the now-stained cloth, and the leftover bandages. He then very purposefully walked over to shut the door firmly behind him before returning to his chair and looking at Yuuri intently.

"Now", he said, and his voice, although quiet, was unarguably firm. "You are going to start from the beginning and tell me what is wrong. And I am going to listen until you are done."

"Gwendal…" Yuuri's eyes filled with tears, although he blinked hard to keep them away. "I can't."

"You must."

"I…" Yuuri wavered, clearly in doubt of what to do. Gwendal waited, holding his breath as Yuuri looked from him to the door and back again.

He swallowed. "I just can't", he said again, and blindly stumbled for his escape.

"_Yuuri_."

He paused in the act of opening the door. Gwendal no longer sounded angry, but it was intent. He slowly turned, unable to tear his eyes away at that tone of voice.

"Y-Yes?"

It was his last chance, Gwendal knew, and so he chose each word with careful deliberation. "If this has anything at all to do with my brother", he said, and he saw Yuuri's eyes widen, "then I will tell you what I told him. _Talk_ to each other."

Yuuri suddenly felt dizzy. The thought of Conrad now, after the morning had crept by with Yuuri more or less successfully _not_ thinking about him, came as something of a shock. "Conrad…" he heard himself say softly, before pulling himself together. "Did Conrad… is he…?"

His voice faltered, and he thought he could feel the air shifting around him, making it suddenly difficult to breathe. Gwendal frowned, and took a step forward. "I spoke with Conrart yesterday, Heika, and I will not betray his confidence. But neither you nor he can go on like this. It will destroy both of you if you-" He paused and took another slow step towards Yuuri, not missing the fact that Yuuri's eyes had gone oddly unfocused.

This was a mistake. "I have to go", he heard Yuuri murmur, and before Gwendal could make another move, he disappeared from the room, slamming the door behind him. By the time Gwendal had yanked back open the door and rushed out into the passageway, Yuuri was already nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Conrad and Gwendal stood outside Yuuri's door.

"He's not answering", said Gwendal gruffly. If the situation weren't so distressing, Conrad would have smiled at the way Gwendal attempted to mask his worry.

"I see."

Gwendal glanced at him. "This is your fault", he said, not without a trace of pity.

Conrad passed a hand over his face wearily. "I know."

It was nightfall, and still raining. Yuuri had not left his room since late morning.

* * *

The first time someone had knocked, he had ignored it. The second time, he had asked softly for whoever-it-was to please leave him alone. The third and final time, he missed the knocking altogether, tired enough that most sounds seemed very far away. He had not been able to sleep, but for the most part he lay on his bed, reasoning that if he could not sleep then he would at least try and rest his body, which now seemed strangely.

Now he sat up, thinking. It was pointless to go on like this, he knew. He could not keep himself locked in his room for the rest of his life, and as much as he would have liked to avoid the rest of the world, he also knew that the longer he put off seeing Conrad, the worse off he would be. He wanted to talk to Conrad privately though; this was not something he was willing to say in front of anyone else. And he had to do it soon, before his courage failed him completely. Running away would solve nothing, so he had to do something before the urge to run became too strong to refuse. Yes. He would pick up his courage, one more time.

Beyond his room, he could hear nothing. He stood up, making his way to the door. Counting slowly to ten and still greeted by silence, he opened the door cautiously. The hallway was blessedly deserted. Yuuri began to walk.

By the time he reached Conrad's room, he was feeling curiously light-headed. The door was shut, and no light filtered from underneath. Perhaps Conrad was asleep?

But then there came definite sounds of movement from within, and Yuuri backed away. If Conrad truly was in bed with… with someone else (and here Yuuri swallowed painfully), he had no wish to walk in on it. On the other hand, did he have a choice? Had Conrad left him with one? But no, Yuuri shook his head, that was unfair of him. He could have gone to see Conrad at any point during the afternoon, but he had consciously chosen not to. This was his burden as much as it was Conrad's.

There came a stifled groan, and Yuuri took another step backwards. He did not want to hear this, and he did not think he had what it took to see it.

"No! Please, don't…"

Yuuri blinked. That was… not what he had really heard, surely. No, of course not – he was tired, maybe becoming unwell.

Another gasp, and Yuuri moved forwards despite himself. Even if he _was_ hearing things, that noise sounded to him more pained that anything else. Yet Yuuri was quite unable to imagine Conrad simply allowing himself to be hurt, in any way. And if Conrad were in some kind of struggle, he was sure the sounds coming from the room would be a lot louder.

"Please… please, no-"

It was this, more than anything else, that ultimately persuaded Yuuri. Conrad did not beg for anything; not ever. There was something deeply wrong about this, and Yuuri knew there was no way to go back now. He did not pause to knock; simply slipped in (and somewhere at the back of his mind, registered surprise that the door had not been locked), a dark figure against a dark background, and closed the door was a soft click behind him. There he stood, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust.

Conrad was alone.

That was the first thing that struck Yuuri. He could see Conrad's shape clearly against the plain white sheets of the bed, and there was nobody with him. Yuuri walked hesitantly forward.

"Conrad…?"

Conrad did not appear to hear him. That alone was strange. Yuuri knew, all too well, just how alert Conrad usually was. If Conrad had been awake, there was very little chance that he would not have picked up on the noises Yuuri had made in entering the room. And if Conrad were asleep, the sound of a voice saying his name should have been enough, more than enough, to rouse him. Yet Conrad did not even shift. In fact…

Yuuri moved closer. Conrad lay almost on his stomach, his head turned to the side. His eyes were closed, and they did not flicker when Yuuri called his name again, slightly louder this time. His right hand appeared clenched around his pillow.

Yuuri took another step, and his foot made contact with a bedside table. Something on top rattled, and he placed a hand carefully on top, searching for the culprit.

A vial. Small, made of glass, and empty. Two of them, in fact, Yuuri realised as he placed the vial back down and heard it roll into another with a tiny clink. He looked at Conrad again. Could he be sick? But Yuuri's hand on Conrad's forehead, after he had dared to place it there, was pleasantly cool.

Then Conrad shifted again, a sharp, jerking movement, and Yuuri stumbled back, almost afraid. This was not as it had first seemed, that much was plain.

"No…" A whisper now, and Yuuri touched Conrad's shoulder with trembling hand, shaking him lightly.

"Conrad- Conrad, wake up…"

His eye caught a glint from one of the vials again, and his nose twitched as he leant down to examine them again. There was a smell, very faint, that reminded him of something-

Then his sleep-deprived mind finally caught up.

No. It couldn't be… could it? Silently, he replayed things he had heard in his head. Gwendal had given Conrad something the day before. _Just take them_… _they're extras_… and Conrad had not wanted to at first until Gwendal had made him… _don't be a fool_… _just look at yourself_… _perhaps you'll feel differently in a day or so_…

And now Conrad wouldn't wake up, and the smell, although not fully recognisable, at least told Yuuri that the vials had definitely held something until just a little while ago. It would take an idiot not to work it out – which, in hindsight, Yuuri knew he was.

"Sleeping potion…" Yuuri spoke to himself quietly, and Conrad gave an unconscious shudder.

"Yuuri-"

That decided it. Yuuri did not know what would happen when Conrad woke up and found him there, but there was no way he was going anywhere. If Conrad was angry with him – as, Yuuri reflected, he would have every right to be – then Yuuri would apologise for as long as it took. For now though, this was where he belonged.

It did not feel right to climb into bed with clothes on while Conrad slept so vulnerably next to him. Yuuri cringed in embarrassment at the thought, but knew that he had no choice. Not really. He didn't know how Conrad would react, but knew very well that in any event, he would not appreciate waking up to a fully dressed Yuuri while he himself was naked. The only means Yuuri could see of not wounding his Conrad's pride still further was to make himself as vulnerable as Conrad was.

And so, shaking with nerves but certain there was no better or righter way, Yuuri methodically undressed. He did not try to shift his clothes out of the way, but abandoned them where they fell. Then, making his way around Conrad, he slipped under the sheets. His arms found Conrad's chest, and slipped around it so that Yuuri was holding Conrad flush against his body.

Whether this helped Conrad in any way or not, Yuuri could not sure. He knew no more for a time.

* * *

**Oops. I guess this went on longer than I thought. There will be another chapter or epilogue or something forthcoming.**


	3. Epilogue

Warmth. That was the first thing Conrad became aware of.

Not heat, exactly, because the warmth wasn't necessarily physical. It was an inside-warmth as much as it was an outside-warmth, and it was not the kind that was too hot or smothering. It was not the kind of warmth he felt he needed to push away or run from. Instead it felt… nice.

Then the warmth _moved_, and Conrad had just enough time to wonder at that before his mind slipped back into nothingness.

The difference was that this time, the nothingness was not something to he needed to be quite so afraid of.

* * *

Yuuri quietly opened his eyes, not exactly sure what had woken him.

It was morning, but still early. Next to him, Conrad was now lying on his back, his head turned to one side. He looked peaceful enough, and his breathing was deep and even. Yuuri was not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved that Conrad was still asleep. He knew he still had to talk to Conrad at some point about everything, but he was not at all sure that Conrad would want to do the same. That he had not done so by this point made it evident that Conrad felt uncomfortable discussing it, to the point where it had been, if Yuuri guessed correctly, a month until Conrad had done the only thing he could do in order to get a solid night's sleep – and then only because Gwendal had talked him into doing so.

Conrad, Yuuri reflected, was not proud in the way that someone like Wolfram was proud; Conrad was not loud, or aggressive, or overconfident – yet he was proud in a way that made him wary around others when it came to anything remotely personal, since his troubles were something he felt he must carry alone. He could be talkative enough whenever someone engaged him in conversation, but was careful never to reveal much about his private life. Not withdrawn, but certainly not an open book; and more significantly, constantly throwing people off with a kindly smile while hiding who he was as a person, and why, behind it.

This was simply Conrad's way, and Yuuri accepted it with such lack of judgement that Conrad had perhaps been thrown off guard.

Yuuri, for his part, was someone who usually acted according to instinct. Conrad was no exception. He could often not tell what Conrad was thinking or feeling, but nonetheless trusted his own feelings in the matter of their relationship, blindly allowing himself to fall in love with Conrad because, above anything else, it felt right. If Conrad was somewhat mysterious and occasionally distant, Yuuri was aware that this, too, was simply a part of who Conrad was. Not knowing the deeper reasons behind this behaviour meant only that Conrad, who had always been more private in character than many another demon, did not feel ready or even did not know how to talk about it. Yuuri, although naturally curious, was not prone to prying, and was old enough now to realise that he had fallen in love with Conrad _because_ of who he was, not in spite it.

Yet Yuuri had not trusted these feelings this time around because they had been overwhelmed by his own particular weaknesses. Inexperience. A certain lack of self-assurance. Above all, doubting that his own love, freely given, was enough to make Conrad happy.

All these things and more crossed his mind as he lay in bed as the sky began to soften outside Conrad's window. He could not make sense of everything nor put a name to some of what he felt, but decided to rely on the fact that his relationship with Conrad was strong enough that any one mistake on his part was not about to tear it apart. He would accept the consequences of his actions, and hope that Conrad would be able to forgive him them.

Just as Yuuri finished telling himself this, Conrad opened his eyes.

* * *

"Oh", said Yuuri intelligently. "Um. Good morning, Conrad."

"Good morning, Yuuri."

They looked at each other for a moment, each watching the other watching them. Yuuri's heart beat faster, his eyes searching Conrad's face for some kind of sign.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked a little breathlessly.

But Conrad answered almost straight away, "No", and Yuuri knew then that even if things were a little awkward again to begin with, he and Conrad would be alright.

"… Did you not want to tell me because you were scared of what I might think?"

"I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd worry", said Conrad simply.

"I did worry. Because… Conrad, I thought I wasn't good enough", Yuuri confessed, and knew also that he did not need to say anything more for Conrad to know what he meant.

And between Yuuri apologising, and Conrad apologising, and Yuuri attempting to explain in a rather garbled way some of what he had been thinking about earlier that morning, and Conrad cradling Yuuri's bandaged hand and shushing him gently, things _were_ alright. Conrad did not try to hide behind a would-be smile, and Yuuri did not try to somehow make it all better.

It was in this way, then, that they came once more to know each other: In the muted grey of the pre-dawn dark, they got up and slowly dressed for the first time in each other's presence – Yuuri passing Conrad his jacket with a shy smile, Conrad wordlessly helping Yuuri with the buttons of his shirt when the younger man fumbled with them, still a little over-tired; both working primarily by touch, not wanting to disturb the nearness of each other. It was a communion, of sorts; the silence between them saying more than either could with words alone.

The sky was visibly lighter by the time they were done. Yuuri leaned against Conrad, feeling the warmth of him, reaching up almost instinctively to trace his expression. The room was still too dim to truly see Conrad's face, and Yuuri knew that even had he been able to see it clearly, he would not have been able to tell what Conrad was feeling by sight alone.

This, though, had never failed to work. Now his fingertips felt, rather than sensed, the soft upwards curving of Conrad's mouth. The kind of smile that was for Yuuri alone. The kind that Conrad was incapable of faking. Yuuri had fallen in love with that smile before he had ever really known it was there.

"Conrad, I-"

Then came a quiet knock at the door, and Conrad turned, his hand moving to clasp Yuuri's in his own.

"Yes?"

"Ready for drilling, Sir."

"I will be there shortly. Please begin."

"Understood."

Footsteps retreating. Yuuri gave a wistful sigh. "So early?"

"The other, more practical reason why we hadn't spent the night together", Conrad replied understandingly.

They stood a moment more, willing time to stop until Conrad finally let go Yuuri's hand, stepping back with a sigh of his own. "Later", he whispered. "It's a promise."

"Where-"

"I'll find you."

Another brief smile, a final moment stolen between them before the day could truly begin.

Yuuri watched the arrival of dawn from Conrad's bedroom, holding onto Conrad's smiles and feeling the warmth from them, along with the sun, blossoming in his chest.

* * *

And so again to this.

Yuuri didn't think Conrad had _meant_ to walk into his office for anything other than to talk later on that day. And certainly looking over tax reports didn't exactly set the mood as far as Yuuri was concerned. But somehow or other Yuuri ended up leaning against Conrad again in a mutual give-and-take of everyday comfort, and Conrad couldn't help but run a gentle hand through Yuuri's hair, and so Yuuri cheekily kissed Conrad when the chance presented itself, and things quite naturally progressed to Conrad nipping softly at Yuuri's neck.

Yuuri didn't know exactly what happened or in what order after that. What he _did_ know was that he found himself quite abruptly (but not unwelcomingly) pushed against the closest available wall, and that Conrad was busy undoing the buttons of Yuuri's shirt with one hand while (quite skilfully, Yuuri thought), pinning Yuuri's hands above him with the other.

Not, Yuuri reflected, that he himself was trying especially hard to put up a struggle. There were distinct advantages to having someone like Conrad for a lover, and Yuuri had come to the conclusion long ago that it was best to go along with them than to waste time being embarrassed. Or rather, being embarrassed was a lot harder to do when you were so distracted by other, more pressing issues-

"Con… Conrad…!"

The soldier in question only smiled playfully and proceeded to attack the next button down, and Yuuri squirmed, seeking closer contact even as the hand brushing over his skin made him tremble. "It's only fair, Yuuri, that since I assisted you this morning I get to assist in un-doing them now."

"You- ooh! That's… that's totally unfair Conrad, I don't need- ah!"

Conrad couldn't quite keep the delight from showing. How anyone could ever think that this, that _Yuuri_, might not be enough to stay someone's love once gained, was absurd. Everything about Yuuri (but especially, right now, those _sounds_), was more than enough to drive a man wild. The fact that Yuuri seemed not to know it only made him more attractive in Conrad's eyes.

Yuuri's next sound, however, didn't have as much to do with Conrad as it did with the fact that the door had just opened.

"Oh! Umm…"

Conrad looked from the suddenly still Yuuri to the rather taken-aback maid and back again. Seldom had he seen anyone's face resemble that of a tomato in colour so quickly. Then again, he knew, Yuuri was naturally bashful about these kinds of things, and the maid in turn was probably already thinking about running to spread the news excitedly about the staff (Conrad had it on good authority that there was some kind of betting pool going).

"Oh my… Heika, I had no idea that you, I mean, he, that is-"

Conrad didn't move from where he had Yuuri still pinned against the wall. "I'm very sorry. I'm afraid it's exactly what it looks like", he said apologetically.

Yuuri made a sound somewhere between a surprised squeak and a mortified laugh. The maid bobbed a hurried curtsy before speeding off.

"Con_rad_…" Yuuri groaned, still a shade of bright red. "You didn't need to tell her _that_."

"Would it have mattered what any of us had told her?"

"Well, no, I suppose not…"

"At least", said Conrad brightly, "we were both still fully dressed. More or less." Then he leaned in close again, his mouth next to Yuuri's ear. "For now anyway."

Yuuri shivered. Sleeping potion or no, he did not think that either he or Conrad would have a difficult time finding rest tonight.

* * *

_I'm not sure that I'm 100% happy with this, but after all the angst I really wanted to end on a somewhat lighter note. __Also, a big part of why I love the relationship between Yuuri and Conrad so much is that they do seem to communicate very well without necessarily using a lot of words – and so I wanted to somehow share that side of them in this last part, and try not to overburden things with too much dialogue. _

_Thank you to everybody for reading! Your positive reviews really do help make my day wonderful, and I will of course be writing more of my favourite pairing in the future._


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